


There's Not a Lot of Money in Revenge

by CaramelLatte (BunneHood)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Fantasy AU!, Friends to Lovers, It's like Shrek in a way, M/M, McCree doesn't have a gun but he's good at throwing knives, McCree is an orphan, More tags as the plot progresses, Prince! Genji, Prince! Hanzo, Slow Burn, There Will be Dragons, Thief! McCree, hanzo is sporting those gloves like Elsa in frozen, idk if there will be smut but there will be a fuck ton of fluff, it'll be cute just hang in there, magic au!, the plot I mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunneHood/pseuds/CaramelLatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree is a thief, plain and simple. Good with throwing knives, good at telling lies. As a lesser-known gun(knife) for hire, though, he doesn't really make ends meat with his profession. Though if he manages to pull off this one mission, he might just be set for life. In the town of Penshaw, the Shimada princes visit the monk Zenyatta atop his mountain, and Jesse stares up at the structure, waiting for his opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. War Makes Thieves, Peace Hangs Them.

**Author's Note:**

> I was folding laundry and my mind started drifting. Now here we are. The whole mythology/religion in this world will come more to light in future chapters. If you're dying to hear a full explanation, though, it won't spoil anything so message me on tumblr to ask! @videogamelesbian :) 
> 
> Completely unrelated to my high school AU if you couldn't guess. My HS fic is Reaper76 tho if you want to give that a go too. Wow. Self promoing myself on my own fic. I'm a goddamn sell out.

A knock raps on the door in the dimly lit, cheap room of the inn that he’d rented out for the week. Near the end of the long seven days that small window of opportunity would be here and he could finish what he came here to do. Stars, these days were going to creep by, but dammit if he was going to let this chance slip through his fingers after hearing of the immense reward given to the winner of this sick game. If he managed to pull through he might actually be able to retire at the young age of twenty-five. No more on the run, no more on the lamb, no more hiding in a different filthy hole every night, starving and cold. All he had to do was- 

The knocking came back, jostling Jesse McCree out of his light slumber. A voice came paired with it. His wake-up call. “Excuse me, Mr. Brigham. It’s time to wake up.” Shy and tiny, the woman was barely heard behind the thick wooden door. McCree was almost asleep enough to tell her that his name wasn’t Mr. Brigham, but thankfully he was alert enough to remember that he had signed in under an alias. Jesse McCree wasn’t a very… loved name by the townsfolk on this side of the province. Don’t even mention his name out West in Airedale unless you want to be heavily questioned by the sheriff. 

“Ah, yeah, thank you kindly.” He dismissed the woman and didn’t move until her footsteps were heard down the short hallway and partly down the creaky stairs.

Getting up from the now severely unmade bed, he gave the room a once-over. Had the small inn-keeper opened the door, she would have been able to figure out that Mr. Brigham was not who he said he was. Knives and maps and his future maneuvers lay strewn about over the floorboards. Nothing Mr. Brigham would have had. Mr. Brigham was a merchant, loved by all in his small town over the mountains; he was up north in Penshaw to visit his brother before he got married this weekend. Jesse McCree was a wanted man by several (hundred) small-town law enforcements for thievery, though the word was a bit strong. Two entirely different people. Good thing McCree knew how to lie.

The money and food he stole piled up and his bounty collectively grew. All he’d been trying to do was not starve to death and he wouldn’t have to steal if he had been given a chance at making fair money. Orphaned since the Stars knew when and called the “cursed child” in his hometown. He was carefully avoided. No one ever told him what the name meant so he just stopped asking. So it made sense to not give away his cover if he could help it. 

Quickly picking up his room and tucking all of his not-Mr-Brigham items away safely inside one of his spare coats hanging in the closet, he gave the room another glance in case he missed anything. The floor was bare, save for the worn, once-white rug on the floor. If he had any money to his name he would leave a tip for the maid that would have to make his mess of a bed. Sadly, he had spent the only money he had left on this room. Maybe if he managed to win this thing he would send them a large tip. _Maybe._

Pulling on some old and well-loved clothes in order to look his role, he checked himself in the provided mirror on the dresser. He’d even shaved for this mission. His hands rubbed his cheeks and neck furiously, feeling how smooth he was without his usual unkempt beard and mustache. With a sigh, he grabbed some of his throwing knives, shoved them deep in the folds of his clothes, checked himself over one more time, and made his way out of the inn. 

Naturally, he fell into his role of happy, sappy village merchant. Stars, did it feel good to have people convinced that he was a good person. Lying just came so easily, gave him such a rush. He handed small little honey candies to playing children and smiled at their mothers, the older women gasping and whispering excitedly about the handsome young merchant that was in town. McCree should have chosen a less charming and more invisible persona. He kept walking towards his destination. 

Penshaw was bustling and nearing chaotic with the arrival of the Shimada princes this week. It wasn’t anywhere near a small town like he’d been used to, but it felt as if it were a thriving castle’s town now that the famous Eastern royalty would be staying with the monk Zenyatta atop the mountain that overlooked the town. 

Surrounding villages and families from near and far all traveled to even have a chance at catching a glimpse of the rumored inky black hair, the eldest having locks that supposedly flowed like a lazy river. Chances were only a handful of people would see them and they were to be up on the mountain for the entire duration of their stay. People would have just wasted their money. Hopefully not McCree. 

Walking over cobblestone paths and avoiding rushing bodies and horses and wagons full of goods, he tried to make his way over to the other side of Penshaw at the meeting time. Seeing as he was now stuck among the crowd of tourists, he might be a little late. His client might have to wait a little while longer. He stared up the mountain again at the large structure built upon its face. _For a monk, he’s a bit of a… heavy spender,_ he thought with his eyebrows raised. It was several stories high, and he knew that the other side of the house was where an overflowing, luscious garden was hidden. Not that he’d seen the garden, but he learned the whole layout in preparation for the end of the week. Stars, he couldn’t wait to not sit on his ass and get something done. 

Down an alley he ran, glad to finally get out of the cattle-like movement of the crowd he was in just moments before. Luck would have it that his client left and he spent his life savings on a week-long vacation in a town he didn’t want to be in. He hoped luck was actually working for him this time. Tall and crumbling, the building that the meeting place was supposed to be was unimpressive. Good thinking on his client’s part to choose a part of town that was more or less abandoned. Praising his Stars, he spotted a figure dressed in a dramatic black robe leaned up against the front of the mass of stones that used to be someone’s house. McCree approached, breathless and relieved. 

“Thank the Stars you’re still here.” He said, waving a little and beaming. 

“I was about to leave. But three heads is better than two for this kind of thing, so I decided to wait just a second longer.” The man pushed himself off of the wall, holding out a hand. 

“You must be McCree. I’m Gabriel, the one who contacted you.” Gabriel said. McCree took his hand. 

“Yeah, that’s me. So there’s three of us doin’ this thing?” He asked, crossing his arms, business face on, and ready to get the rest of the information he needs. 

“Yes, but only one of you is getting paid, and that’s the one that brings me the goods.” Gabriel crosses his arms in response to Jesse’s body language. 

“And you’re gonna be down in…” Jesse raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ll be in Durnaval waiting for the payload. Whoever gets there first with it alive and well will get paid. No other catches. Hiring three of you people is more of a precaution than anything. It also makes for an interesting game.” 

_Game,_ Jesse grimaced. He hated dealing with psychopaths but he tolerated dealing with abnormally rich psychopaths. Especially the ones that would potentially set him up for life. 

“If you manage to be the one to bring him there, then I might consider hiring you in the future.” 

“If I’m the one to manage deliverin’ it then I probably won’t needa work ever again.” Jesse joked and Gabriel grinned. 

“That’s the motivation. Try not to kill your competition, they’re valuable hit men. And as much as I hate to leave so suddenly, I have to go now. I usually don’t stay undetected for long. You’d best be heading away from here too.” Gabriel held out his hand once more and McCree shook it, feeling the sinister presence coming off of the man. 

In a cloud of black and specks of red, the other man was gone and left McCree all alone in front of the neglected structure with his hand out, another having held it moments before. _Psychopath_ and _a Magi. Great. Probably born under Eridanus if I hadta guess._ He huffed and made his way back down the system of alleys he’d used to get there. Now all he had to do was kill some time. And from the way his stomach was groaning, he had better find something cheap to eat.


	2. The Number One Rule of Thieves is that Nothing is too Small to Steal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree doesn't like crowds, loves to fight, and is a gay thief. Oh no he's HOOOOOOOOOOOOOT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why it took me so long to post this - my only excuse is that my laptop is a literal toaster and opening it and waiting for it to load takes a lot of mental strength. Anyway, here it is! Also please check out my other fic, Autumn Leaves, Summer Breeze, for Reaper76 if you're into that. They're also gay. I'll be updating that one before Wednesday and this one should be updated again before the end of the week! I hope you all enjoy!

McCree managed to not break character or be revealed for the remainder of the week. Today had certainly crawled up slowly to his feet, but if he could kiss the sunlight right then, he would.   
The Shimada princes were scheduled to cross the large marble bridge into town at high noon and Penshaw was well-prepared to give them the warmest welcome possible. Noon wasn’t the time he would be making his move, however, but he would take initiative twelve hours later with the cover of night on his side.

He’d seen the way the citizens had united, decorating the buildings along the main street with colorful streamers, banners, and had bands set up on the corners of the walkways. Small metal gates marked the boundaries that the townspeople could reach before they would be arrested by the local law enforcement, which was also already on guard in case of sabotage. Why they were so important, McCree didn’t really care. His knowledge on the two princes stopped at the fact that they were practically celestial beings to the normal human. Luckily McCree wasn’t normal. 

Hours before the arrival, people were already heading to the edge of the bridge in order to guarantee a glimpse. Surely some of them were destined to fall into the river hundreds of feet below upon seeing the overly decorated carriage that was trotting its way towards the monastery. The inn-keepers in town probably didn’t care one way or another since every room in Penshaw was booked and they were certain to make a killing. 

McCree spent the week perfecting every move he would make later in the night, even practicing the climb up the mountain and marking the positions and movements of every guard. His mission, and he had chosen to accept it, was to kidnap and deliver the eldest Shimada brother to Gabriel in Durnaval. What that psychopath decided to do with him after the delivery, McCree didn’t have a clue. It was probably just a plan to make a quick load of money from a ransom Gabriel would post. Everything about the mission was on a need-to-know basis. Hell, McCree didn’t even know the target’s first name. Having done kidnapping missions in the past, he felt confident that he could pull this off expertly, though his competition would pose to be troublesome. It’s never been a game before. 

He didn’t know what they looked like, sounded like, or what their abilities were. The odds of them also being Magi were very high. All McCree could hope for was that they didn’t have the abilities of the Zodiac, which would make it near impossible to beat them. Birth under one of the twelve signs was rare, however, so he wasn’t too worried, but the possibility still stood. No one walked away from a fight with a Zodiac. 

\----------------------

The thief didn’t attend the parade-like celebration for long, as the volume and density of the crowd made it impossible for him to catch a glimpse of his future target. That was all he had really cared about going for; to ensure that he would snatch up the correct man later that night. He only stayed long enough in order to stock up on the free food and drinks that were provided by generous vendors. Dazed and detached, the size of the crowd made him apathetic to everything around and all he knew was that he wanted to get out and vomit. Masses of people made his gut churn in torturous ways. The only visible thing was the top of the carriage, anyway, which was a stunning gold figure of two dragons wrapping themselves around a pole. Fuck, if he could just steal the top of the carriage he would be pretty well-off, but the reward would be far less than what he’d get if he just followed orders. He would grab both if he was certain he had the time. Odds were, he would make it out with the other kidnapper’s fingertips grazing his ass. 

Body remaining strong and confident, uneasiness still shot through him as the carriage passed, power practically leaking from the wheels and flooding the streets behind. Magi within miles of Penshaw should be able to feel the presence of whoever or whatever lay inside of the cabin. This all might be more than McCree bargained for. But he didn’t have anything to lose. 

\------------------------

McCree laid around in his room, sharpening his knives by candle light and reading over his footsteps one last time. It was going to work. There was no way that the plan he’d made would fail unless an unknown factor showed its ugly face later tonight in the form of the opposing parties causing a riot. Kidnapping missions were better with stealth involved but maybe the other two had different ideas. The thief frowned and set his last knife down next to the rest, all of his weapons now freshly sharpened. 

It was time. Praying once more that the movements of the guards wouldn’t alter to accommodate for the princes, he started to pack up all of his belongings. There was no way in hell that he was going to return to the room with a Shimada prince in tow, so it was best to do this now. Thankfully he only had a few things to his name anyway, not even enough to fill up a trunk, so he carelessly tossed them out of the window and into the bushes below. He probably wouldn’t even return for them since they were only some old ripped-up bed clothes, but he still wanted to leave no trace of himself behind. No trace except for a small note on the desk saying: 

_“There was an emergency back home that I had to leave for. I’m sorry for not properly checking out. Please dispose of anything I may have left behind in my haste.  
~Carson Brigham.” _

 

He pulled on his favorite outfit and gave himself a once-over. A smile stole his lips underneath the navy blue scarf he wore around his nose and mouth in order to hide his features, along with the black mask over his eyes and the hat of the same color atop his head. The rest of the outfit was sleek formal wear that made little to no noise, and a black sash around his non-dominant shoulder. _Mystery Man,_ he called himself, but he was the only person to use that name. Everyone else who even knew of him called him “that bastard” or “asshole”. It’s not like he had a good reputation. 

Jumping out of the same window that he dropped his old clothes, he felt the air around him for any sign of life and peeked from the bushes. Ara was McCree’s Star, which gave him certain abilities over the wind and air. Though laughed down upon, it was one of the most powerful lesser-Stars in the entire sky if one was disciplined enough to practice the abilities. 

Running down the dark alleys to the path that he’d practiced climbing all week, he used the air to muffle the sounds of his footsteps to near non-existent. It was fortunate that there was a considerable amount of Magi presence in the city, making his exact position unknown to any citizens that might possess powers. One might think it that McCree was a child rolling over in bed. Though the only negative thing about how clouded his senses were was that it would be much more difficult to feel guards deviating from their normal routes, or to pinpoint where his competition might be hidden. Two other Magi would be hidden in the wooded mountain with him and hopefully both of their visions were as clouded as his. McCree allowed himself to huff once and scurry up the side of the mountain, using thin trees as footholds up the steep incline. 

\---------------------

He reached the top with no problem and perched himself in the tree that he’d become familiar with in previous nights. Taking a glance over the wall, he noticed that the garden was much emptier than it had been when he scouted. No guards, save for one that leant against the structure where their sleeping quarters must be, and even that one was dozing off. 

Monasteries shouldn’t need guards in the first place, but this particular monk had apparently been targeted by many powerful people in the past and the townsfolk used their own tax money in order to hire some heavy-arms. That was also why the house was so large and there was only one person sleeping atop the mountain most nights. Apparently, the man had performed miracles during times of great sickness and death that made the citizens below worship him like he was his own personal Star. Gossip was easy to come by in Penshaw if you sat at a bar long enough, and boy did McCree sit himself at every bar in town in the last week. 

He sat there completely motionless, listening to the wind and feeling for the familiar figure of people, scoping out every single thing that moved or made a noise within a hundred or so feet of him. The higher up he was, the more power he had and the farther he could see with his senses. That was the power of the Altar, Ara, and being in this tree gave him at least an extra forty feet of sight. It wasn’t that high up, but it allowed him to see inside parts of the house and the entirety of the garden. 

Right now, he was mostly feeling for his fellow kidnappers. Surprising to McCree, he had found one of them within a minute, across the garden and camping out in one of the pink bushes that bloomed, managing to shine weakly by the light of the moon. The power radiating off of the Magi was unstable and put McCree on edge. Wherever the other one was, he couldn’t feel them, which made the thief more tense than knowing where definite destruction lay. 

The guard snorted awake and McCree heard footsteps coming from the house with a “Good evening, young master! It’s a bit late to be out in the garden, no?” 

There was no answer to the question from the guard as the “young master” walked elegantly outside and down the stone path, giving considerable attention to some of the flowery bushes but not touching them. McCree noticed he wore gloves, despite the rest of his outfit being bed clothes; a light blue robe and some cloth pants. It’s not like it was cold enough to be wearing gloves, and the man didn’t wear any sort of shoes, proving further that it wasn’t a temperature issue. In his thick outfit, even with the cool breeze he artificially created, he could feel himself begin to sweat. 

This was his target. The only reason he knew so certainly was because he knew that the eldest had the longer hair of the two princes, though now the locks were up in a hasty bun. His back remained turned to McCree as he bent down to appreciate a different bush further down the path, slowly making his way towards a pearly gazebo that sat across a shallow stream. 

Sounds from the bushes came straight to McCree due to his now heightened sense of hearing and the thief held his breath, waiting for what might pop out. But just as whoever sat in those bushes raised their head, a quick _fwip_ was heard, and the person fell back down to the ground with a thud. _The other competitor,_ thought McCree, now desperately looking towards the source of the sound. All he found was dark tree tops and thick leaves hiding every possible spot that the other could be tucked in. Young Master didn’t even look up, as though lost in his thoughts, and lightly plucked one of the flowers from a bush, the motion quick as if he were afraid of touching it for too long. 

Luckily, McCree knew the sound of the other’s weapon well. A blow dart, if he wasn’t mistaken, which was something he could easily deviate the direction of. Fending off the sniper wasn’t a problem, but figuring out a way to keep the target from drawing attention to the situation _while_ fending off the sniper was a problem. This window of opportunity was sure to close within the hour, so a course of action would have to be taken soon in order to do this tonight. The single guard was dozing off yet again, and the Young Master was definitely out of eyesight now that he stood at the entrance to the gazebo, gazing into the water below. 

He decided to make the first move. Dropping over the wall and behind some of the taller bushes, he kept his eye towards the direction the dart had come from. Silence remained McCree’s main weapon now, the target standing within fifteen feet of him, back still turned. The sniper was sure to have seen that drop and was ready to make their move, prepared to win with only two darts blown. Though he was sure that she’d never had to deal with a well-trained Ara before, no one ever had, and he created a small barrier of air current around himself in order to render her blow darts useless. It was unlikely that that was her only weapon, but McCree would counter the next weapon when he got to it. 

Keeping as close as he could to the edge of the bushline for as long as he could, he watched the target for a few seconds longer. That hair really was worth waiting in line for to see, now that he saw it shimmer underneath the bright moonlight. _Lucky for me to be this close to it,_ he thought, taking a step out towards him. Another _fwip_ was heard and the dart ended up being flung by the current, across the garden, and into the guard’s shoulder. McCree watched with slight terror as the huge man tumbled to the ground with a very audible thud. His head whipped back to the Young Master, who just leaned over the side of the gazebo still, calm, and unassuming. _Must be deaf or somethin’,_ he thought. 

Chucking a knife with a force of air behind it towards the dart’s original place, he bolted as quietly as he could towards the target. Another thud was heard, but this one was more controlled, as if the one in the tree had jumped down on their own accord to avoid the knife. Young Master stood directly next to him, still slumped over the railing. That same feeling of unease from the welcoming parade washed over him. _Okay, no fuckin’ way he doesn’t feel me here…_ he thought, making a motion to secure his prize when his same knife came barrelling at him, a sharp _thwack!_ sound as it hit the white wood of the gazebo, shaking there inches from McCree’s face. The target didn’t even flinch, just snorted a little bit and nuzzled into his hand. _Was he fuckin’ sleepwalking this whole fuckin’ time?!_ He grabbed his knife from the wood and looked out into a clearing in the garden, a cloaked figure with an unnerving mask standing there in a fighting stance. 

It looked a little like a bug mask from this distance, with a hood pulled taught over the head in order to hide any feature of the assassin’s face. Whoever they were, they were not about to allow McCree to take the prize without a fight. He took the bait, tossing the knife quickly, manipulating the air around it to make the destination of the blade unclear. It stuck itself in the side of their boot, holding them there as McCree darted over to throw the first punch. The punch was successful, knocking the opponent’s head to the side, unable to stumble back due to their foot being firmly held in place. A hiss was heard from behind the mask, and the other person took a swing, McCree easily backing up to dodge. _Damn, I was worried for no reason, my opponents suc-_ His chest was kicked with devastating force, pushing the Mystery Man back onto his ass, and the other ripped the knife from the ground, coming at him without missing a beat. 

Rolling away and pulling another knife from his coat, he jumped to his feet and managed to counter the other’s knife-play just before he was hit with the hilt of the knife. The other person was amazing, he had to give it to them, but he’d spent many years perfecting his art. If it had been anyone else, he would have killed them by now, but Gabriel had warned him not to murder his competition if he could help it. It seemed as if the other was holding back as well, probably given the same instruction. 

Flashes of knives and soft clanks and quick punches were all exchanged, both trying not to be detected by those inside of the building only a mere twenty feet from them. Young Master had moved to sit himself on a bench in the gazebo during the battle, eyes closed shut and leaning back against the railing. With one final quick and powerful punch, McCree managed to uppercut the other’s chin and send them flying a few feet into the trunk of a tree, clocking their head against it and falling limp at its base. The thief felt the few knife wounds that he’d suffered on his arms, thankfully nothing too serious. He was sure that the other had some worse injuries that they would need to sort out when they came to, if they woke up before the sun rose and those within the house figured out about the foul play that had happened that night. Then they would have other issues, answering to the guards and townsfolk. 

Plucking his knife from the other’s limp hand, he made his way back to the target, replacing all of his clothes and weapons before attempting to move him. An idea sprang into his head to snatch him up without a commotion, though he was doubtful it would work. 

“Uh… Hey, Young Master, it’s time to go back to bed? C’mon.” He muttered, the other’s face obscured by long, black locks of hair, his head having fallen forward now. Some of the locks had fallen from his messy bun from earlier, McCree noticed. 

“Mmmm. Yes…” The other’s voice was deep and commanding, but full of sleep. 

“... How about I carry you.” McCree huffed and the other man nodded sleepily, hair shifting even more into his face. 

The Young Master raised his arms slightly and McCree gritted his teeth. _What a fuckin’ princess,_ he thought, picking the package up bridal style. His head leaned into McCree’s shoulder and crossed his arms; the thief immediately disliked this man. 

Walking towards the back of the garden near the gate, he heard the bushes rustle again and he picked up the pace, not willing to fight the other, more unstable force of energy that was coming to. McCree opened the gate with his elbow and sprinted out, keeping his precious parcel as even as possible as he made his way down the other side of the mountain, away from Penshaw, down the path that he had scouted nights before. The moon was on his side. The Young Master snoozed on. McCree was winning for now. 

\--------------------------

After adjusting the payload a few times, the Young Master had ended up being piggy backed for several hours through the woods towards the road to Durnaval. Along with a good paycheck, McCree was getting in some exercise free of charge. The load on his back wasn’t particularly heavy but over time he could have sworn he stole the carriage instead of one prince. 

When the sky had begun to show signs of dawn, signalling that McCree was to some degree safe for the moment, he squatted and lightly sat the prince down, who slouched against the trunk of a tree before he began to stir. Quickly, McCree whipped a rope from the pouch around his hips and tied Young Master’s wrists together before he could even open his eyes. 

“Wh… Where…” He yawned and blinked sleepily at his captor, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Who are you?” He shook his hair out of his eyes and struggled against his restraints for only a second, realizing that they were going to stay on for quite a while. 

“Nunna your concern, darlin’, just cooper- aaaaaaayyyyyyte……” McCree drawled on, finally getting a good look at the man’s face. 

_Holy shit, he’s fucking beautiful,_ McCree thought, grateful for the scarf around his face to hide his reddening skin. Dark, intense, angry eyes stared into his and dragged themselves over his body, the prince trying to get a read on the man across from him. McCree's eyes traveled across his prize's face, the high cheekbones, the perfectly arched eyebrows and the sharp line of his jaw. And that was just his face, the man's blue robe leaving a lot to the imagination. A smile spread across his face when he saw how tiny his ankles were, perfectly fitting his princely persona. The scarf hid all, making it seem as if the thief was participating in the stare down. He hadn’t signed up for this. This was all becoming too much too soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 is literally already written bc I wrote them as one big chapter and decided to split them up to see if you guys think it's interesting. Hope you all enjoyed !


End file.
